


We are Who We Choose to Follow

by kiranightshade



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Alternate Season/Series 01, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beta Stiles, Dark Stiles, Emancipated Stiles, Full Shift Werewolves, Kidnapping, M/M, Orphan Stiles, RIP Roscoe, Revenge, Rich Peter Hale, Scarred Peter, Stiles Stilinski Gets Bitten Instead of Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski is Seventeen Years Old, Stiles Stilinski moves to Beacon Hills, The Argents fuck off and its awesome, Vindictive Stiles, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 07:07:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12007623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiranightshade/pseuds/kiranightshade
Summary: The road is dark. Stiles is maybe a little suicidal. But maybe there's someone left to live for after all.





	We are Who We Choose to Follow

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this one for at least the whole summer and I just slapped an ending onto it so here ya go.

It’s hard to see. 

The sun went down hours ago and the only light Stiles can drive by is the full moon hanging heavy above him. He knows he should’ve fixed the headlights before making the drive, but he couldn’t stay in that empty house a second longer. 

He could barely handle one ghost. He can’t be expected to live with two. 

So, here he is, newly emancipated seventeen-year-old son of the former sheriff, speeding into Lewiston’s sister city with no way to see the hulking mass of fur jump out of the trees and right into the middle of the road. The brakes stall and Stiles’ jeep rams into the thing mid-stride. Stiles’ head hits the steering wheel just as the airbag ejects and knocks him back against the headrest. Everything is blurry and far away. Someone is whining but that might be him. Someone is growling, he thinks, and that’s definitely not him. 

Something makes a big bang next to him and he winces. Then something snaps from around his chest and he can breathe a little easier. He isn’t falling and shouldn’t he be falling? 

Something big and warm is holding him up. That isn’t normal, is it? He doesn’t know. Or, he knows. he just can’t think. 

The ground is coming closer, but slower than he feels is right. The ground is cold when it touches his side, and then his back and should it have been this gentle? Something sways and blocks the moon but, before he can think about why that’s wrong, something big and black blocks that too. 

Its teeth are the first thing Stiles notices. They’re big and sharp and Stiles whines, turning his head away.

The thing rumbles overtop of him and, oh, they’re in the forest. That’s why the ground’s so soft. He can see the road like this. He doesn’t get the chance to make out the jeep because then there’s pain digging into his side and Stiles screams. 

The pain lessens after a moment but doesn’t stop throbbing. He’s crying now, he thinks. At least, the hiccupping noise can’t be coming from the beast, can it?

The rumbling grows louder or, no, closer. Its head is right by his ear, its arms pulling him close. Stiles wants to panic. This is the time to panic right? But nothing feels real right now and the beast is actually surprisingly gentle and Stiles is just really tired. 

It’s okay to sleep if it isn’t real, right? 

 

*** 

 

He’s alive when he wakes up. And, yes, he knows how that sounds, but his head feels like it got hit by a truck, okay? 

His jeep is nowhere in sight or the road or anything other than trees and grass and the beast pinning him down like an overgrown puppy. He can breathe, which is a plus. His right limbs are mobile, but Stiles knows that, even if he did manage to free himself, there is no way to do so without waking him up. 

And it is definitely a him. 

Stiles turns his head to the left. The sun isn’t beating into his skull anymore but now there’s a snout inches from his face. Warm breaths wash over him and the beast’s arm tightens around his waist, bringing him closer. Its head rests overtop of his and Stiles is left curled into its shoulder, breathing through fur. 

Stiles takes some very deep, very calm breathes and thinks back to how he got here. He remembers his empty house. Remembers how he felt like suffocating and he remembers not being able to wait until morning to move. An hour of reckless driving later and…and… 

And pain. The crash. Oh god. His dad would be so proud; a month on his own and he’s already getting himself killed.

The beast stirs and Stiles freezes. He settles but Stiles’ heart is still beating out of his chest. This creature hasn’t killed him, but that doesn’t mean he won’t hurt him. His side twinges at the reminder. 

His stomach chooses that moment to growl, loudly. Stiles has time to cringe before the beast stiffens. Both his arms tighten around him and shove him harder into his chest. Stiles can feel them move as the beast crouches over him and growls. The beast is still pinning his leg down. Stiles finds out why once the growling stops and the beast shifts his weight. Stiles cries out as pain spikes through his leg. The beast startles, but Stiles barely notices. The beast has moved enough that he can see the blood matting his leg and it’s bad. He needs to go to the hospital. He needs to get out of here. 

He can’t walk like this, let alone run. Still, Stiles starts to drag himself away. He doesn’t get farther than a few inches before the beast is holding him still and reaching for his leg. Stiles begs for him not to touch through sobs of pain but the beast doesn’t pay any mind. He can do nothing but watch as the beast tears off the leg of his pants with the very sharp claws Stiles is now noticing. His leg looks even worse like this. It might not be broken, but those bruises are not something to scoff at. He can’t see where the blood came from, but at least any bleeding has seemed to stop. 

The beast shuffles even closer on its hind legs as he wraps his hand around the worst of the bruising. Stiles whimpers and the beast tightens his hold around his shoulders as if he was trying to comfort him. Tears run down his face; first from the pain, and then from the relief of it all disappearing as soon as the beast’s hand settles around his calf. Stiles slumps into his arms once he’s finished. The beast brings him to his chest again. He’s gentle and mindful of his leg and Stiles is so confused. He got a good look at his captor, his savior?, and he looks like nothing Stiles has ever seen of outside of old wolfman movies. 

Is that what he is? A werewolf? Oh god, if he’s a werewolf…Stiles looks down to the tattered ends of his shirt, at the blood clotting over the beast’s bite. Does this mean he isn’t human anymore? He can’t be- it can’t be like the movies. He can’t lose control. He can’t- 

The werewolf starts rumbling again. It’s soft and steady and despite everything it’s actually comforting. His breaths are evening out and he can feel his heart slowing. This is good, right? He’s got the living proof right here. He isn’t hurting him. He- he saved him. Stiles’ breath catches. This werewolf saved him. Stiles hit him with his car and the werewolf dragged him out of the wreckage and somewhere safe. Somewhere where he could watch over him and he took his pain and…and… 

Stiles seriously hit his head. If this isn’t some big hallucination, he should not be feeling so much better so quickly. That’s assuming this is the next morning. How long was he out? It can’t have been too long. He isn’t feeling abnormally hungry, at least. That’s something, right? 

Is that why he bit him? Do werewolves have better healing than humans? The wolf is looking fine for someone who got the brunt of the damage. 

Stiles doesn’t get the chance to ask. The wolf chooses that moment to stand up, raising Stiles up into a bridal carry. Stiles yelps and clings to his shoulders. They don’t go very far. Maybe five minutes later, Stiles is being set down by some bushes near a pond. It takes a moment for Stiles to see what the wolf is trying to show him. The bushes are littered with barely ripe blackberries. Stiles doesn’t waste any time picking the biggest ones and working his way through the bush. The wolf hovers over him the entire time. His eyes dart around their surroundings and back to the berries and Stiles is having doubts that he wouldn’t understand him were he to speak. 

His hands and face are stained by the time the only berries left are small and green. He picks up the handful he’d set aside for the wolf and, slowly, reaches for his hand. The wolf lets him position him so that it’s outstretched and Stiles drops the blackberries into his palm. It’s more a gesture than an actual attempt at feeding the wolf. The wolf seems to understand that, if the huff-snort he gives out is any indication. Nevertheless, he eats them. It’s kind of funny watching such a massive beast tilt his head to the side so that he can drop blackberries down his throat. One bounces off his nose and onto the ground. 

Stiles smiles. It’s small and hesitant, but he smiles, “You’re not just a wolf, are you? You’re more than that, I think…I think, you can understand me, can’t you.” 

The wolf stills and stares at him for a long time. Stiles has started to fidget by the time he gives a jerky nod. Stiles beams and holds his arms up, “Carry me to the pond then? I want to get this blood off me.” 

The wolf doesn’t waste any time picking Stiles up and carrying him the few feet to the pond. Stiles expects be set down at the edge, but that’s not what happens. The wolf walks him to the middle of the pond, which isn’t that far but the water is to his waist. Which means it would probably reach Stiles’ chest were he to stand on his own. The wolf gently lowers him down into the water and Stiles braces for the cold. He’s pleasantly surprised to find the water warm instead. He doesn’t have the will to question it, so he decides to dive into the rest of his questions after he uses his balled up shirt to scrub his arms clean. 

He’s starting to think this blood wasn’t all his. There’s just too much of it. 

He still isn’t standing up. The wolf has him sitting on his bent knee in the water. His hand is back over his leg and what little pain that had started to return bleeds out again. The water turns red for a moment before returning to its natural clear as Stiles watches the wolf use the fur on his hand to wipe away the flakes of dried blood on his legs. 

This pond is not normal. It’s too warm. Too clean. To…round, actually. It’s a perfect circle. 

Focus Stiles. 

Stiles starts wiping the dirt and blood from the wolf’s muzzle and decides to get the big questions out of the way first. “Are you a werewolf?” 

The wolf stills again but only for a second before giving another nod. 

“Did you turn me? With the bite.” 

A nod. 

And that’s…okay. Stiles had already assumed as much but actually hearing it is different. 

“Okay. Yeah. You’re going to help me right? No. scratch that. You are going to help me.” 

The wolf nods again and then licks Stiles’ cheek. Stiles squawks and starts to lose his balance. The wolf catches him before he could fall and Stiles glares at the laughter in his eyes. 

Stiles softens and chuckles a bit before asking “Can you change back? Into a man, I mean.” 

The wolf doesn’t answer. He does, however, stand back up and carry Stiles back to the grass. He sets him down carefully and steps back a few steps. His body starts to shrink. Then his bones are realigning and there’s more skin than fur and then the skin is turning paler and then a man is kneeling where the wolf once was. 

He’s skinnier than Stiles would have guessed. His hair is ragged and there are scars all down his right side. Stiles crawls over to him and they meet eyes. Stiles gives him a small smile and the wolf lets out a sigh of relief. He collapses into Stiles’ arms; Stiles grunts but holds him upright. 

“You’re mine now. Nobody will ever take you.” 

Stiles should probably be worried about that. That’s probably a red flag. But. But he’s holding on almost desperately and he saved him and cared for him and it’s not like he has anyone else to hold onto so Stiles hugs him just as tightly and doesn’t protest when he starts nuzzling into his neck and he says, “Okay.” 

 

*** 

 

Taking a bath in the middle of the woods with no spare change of clothes is a bad idea. 

Peter can just shift back to a fur coat. Stiles is stuck shivering into him as he’s carried back to the crash site. Stiles kind of hates Peter for his comfort but without it they’d both be suffering and Stiles wouldn’t have a living furnace to curl into so maybe he doesn’t hate him so much after all. 

He’s still going to complain about it though. 

Miraculously, there isn’t anyone on the road when they reach the remains of Stiles’ jeep. And he means remains because there is no way his baby is going to bounce back from this one. The dent in the hood alone is its own death sentence. Not to mention the missing car door and the fact that it managed to flip itself off the road and into the grass leading into the forest. He must have really hit his head because he doesn’t remember much past the airbag. 

Stiles sighs and thanks the universe for the fact that he’s graduating early because he’s going to have to take the bus to school. 

Peter helps him get his backpack out and Stiles changes into some dry clothes while Peter searches the car for his phone. Stiles starts to comb the area and they find it a few minutes later hidden in a patch of tall grass. Not only did it survive the crash, it’s even still alive. Stiles grins even though there’s no way he’s making it to school today. 

Stiles doesn’t call 911 until Peter drags a buck to the side of the road. By the time the ambulance carts him away, Peter is hidden in the trees. 

Stiles sits back and hopes nothing unusual shows up at the hospital. 

 

*** 

 

Stiles gets crutches for his leg and a ride to his new apartment just in time for his headache to fade. His leg itches the entire drive but he manages to get through it with minimal fidgeting. His luggage is waiting for him inside and there are boxes stacked in a corner to the left. The living room has a couch and a plain coffee table. There’s a queen-sized bed waiting for him down the hall but other than that it’s mostly bare. Peter is waiting for him, pacing behind the couch. Stiles doesn’t bother to act surprised. He’s been listening to him wear out the carpet since he got out of the car. 

Stiles’ crutches fall to the ground as Peter barrels into him. It’s alright, they’re more for show now than anything. 

His senses are expanding. Peter definitely didn’t smell so good back in the preserve, but he’s also in some of Stiles’ more baggy clothes and his hair is wet again so he probably took a proper shower. That doesn’t account for the potency though, that has to be pure wolf. 

“How did you know to come here?” Stiles asks, voice muffled into Peter’s shoulder. 

Peter lets him go and starts to check him over. First the bite that’s near completely healed and then up his sweatpants’ leg and to the bruising that’s vanished. He doesn’t answer until he’s back to eye level and is leading him deeper into his apartment. “Your GPS was still on.” 

“Oh.” 

“Are you okay? Nothing happened at the hospital right?” 

“What? No. I got out before my leg could heal all the way. How did you get in here?” 

Peter hands him his key. “Swiped it from the car.” 

“That’s really creepy. Did you know that?” 

“We’re pack.” He says with a sense of finality that should scare Stiles much more than it does. He says it as if the idea that he isn’t entitled to his space is ridiculous. Like that makes this all better. 

But he did bring all his stuff here so Stiles can’t bring himself to be too upset about it. 

“You’re going to explain that to me. And then you’re going to tell me who you are.” 

“I’m Peter.” 

“Peter isn’t exactly a unique name. You need to give me more than that.” 

Therefore, Peter gives him everything.

 

*** 

 

“So, you’ll help me?” 

“Help you? I’ll hide you and heal you and do anything I can to see that bitch burn.” 

Peter’s smile is decidedly darker than the ones before. This one promises blood and death and vengeance. 

Stiles grins back. 

 

*** 

 

Peter can’t go back to the hospital. He’s been gone too long. So, Stiles gives him the couch and a toothbrush and they live together. Peter is a good roommate. He’s quiet and he’s neat and he’s a good teacher. 

Okay…so maybe that last one is part of what makes him a good alpha. 

Stiles doesn’t exactly have anyone to compare him to, but Peter is patient and attentive. He keeps him focused but he never gets angry whenever Stiles gets distracted and stretches his hearing instead of his smell like he’s supposed to. He supposes it helps that he never strays from the goal at hand. 

Stiles knows Peter can get angry. He’s seen it, seen him rip into the man who ruled his pack’s death an accident. The pathetic excuse of flesh and bone became little else that night and Stiles knows Peter can get angry. 

Something’s broken in Peter. Stiles doesn’t believe that was the first time he’s killed for his pack, but something’s broken inside him all the same. It’s in the way he looks at him. Whether Stiles has mastered a part of the shift or if he cooks something halfway decent, Peter always has a sense of reverence towards him. It’s in the way he dotes on him. Whether Stiles is researching for homework, their next target, or whatever has sucked him into google this time, Peter is always there with a kind hand on his shoulder and a plate of food for Stiles to eat because he forgot about dinner again. It’s in the way Peter will hunt with him. How he refuses to hide anything about what they’re doing from him. He tells him everything. He tells him about Laura and Derek and Talia. He tells him about the Argents and what he’s going to do to them. He tells him everything Stiles could ever need to ruin him. To turn on him and leave him to the mercy of those who would love to see him burn. 

He gives him so much power. 

Something is broken in Stiles too. He’s bitten and turned by a strange man and Stiles lets him feed and bathe him. That same man steals his key and waits for him in his own living room and Stiles lets him stay. He tells him of the murder he’s committed and the murders he will commit. Stiles vows to help him. And then that man starts touching him. Not sexually, though he knows the attraction is there, but regularly. A hand at the nape of his neck. Arms around his waist. Legs tanged in the middle of the couch. Claws down his cheek. Nose up his neck. All affectionate. All…premature. But they don’t feel premature. They feel natural and good and right. He feels like this is exactly where he’s supposed to be. In his alpha’s arms. Under his alpha’s protection. He knows it’s his new instincts. His new “wolf” speaking. He knows because that’s what Peter told him when he asked and his heart was steady when he said it. 

Peter has never lied to him, even when he could’ve, and that exposes how desperate he truly is for pack. Stiles has always believed him, even when he maybe shouldn’t have, and that exposes how desperate he is for family. 

 

*** 

 

Derek finds him two days after they kill the insurance man. He’s worried, at first, that he will lose control and kill Derek right then and there because he just barged in through the front door and Peter isn’t here because he left to take care of his old nurse and Stiles has never been left alone with someone who hurt his alpha before. He’s never been near someone who hurt his alpha and wasn’t allowed to kill them. It’s a test of self-control that Stiles hasn’t been subjected to and his fists bleed from how hard he clenches them before he can think again. Derek is saying something. Going on about saving him and working together and he’s safe now. 

Stiles laughs. Just a little breath of a thing. He can’t believe Derek thinks he’s being held captive in his own home. That he’s being forced to kill. Like he doesn’t salivate at the thought of holding Kate Argent still for his alpha. 

Peter chooses that moment to return. They’re close enough to the door that Derek doesn’t have time to react. Peter has his claws in his neck before he’s fully facing him. Derek gasps and Stiles grins. It is not a kind grin. Stiles doesn’t have any of those for the one who would abandon his family. 

Peter coos as he lowers Derek to the ground. He detaches his claws only to knock him out with a well-aimed fist. Blood spurts out of his nose and then he’s nothing but a limp figure on Stiles’ floor. 

“I had hoped to spend the evening with you but now it seems I’ll be dropping this off.” Peter scowls down at his nephew, his toe nudging the man’s shoulder in derision. 

Stiles’ smile turns fond. “Are you going to kill him?”

Peter thinks for a long moment before shaking his head. “No. I’ll just leave him somewhere outside our territory. If he comes back though…” 

The look Peter gives him is full of promise and Stiles strides over and drapes his arms around his alpha’s shoulders before kissing his cheek. “Alright. I can make some flashcards until you come back and you can bring home dinner.” 

Peter returns with an Arby’s bag that’s half curly fries and he helps Stiles study until his eyes are drooping and Peter carries him to bed. 

 

*** 

 

The video store clerk was almost boring. They’d been stalking the place all day, waiting for him to be alone. Peter is already on the roof when Jackson shows up. Because of course that dick has to be a thorn in every aspect of his life. 

Stiles grits his teeth and shifts. They don’t have time for this. Peter can take care of Jackson. Stiles looks to his car and, yep, there’s Lydia. Stiles takes immense pleasure in sneaking behind the car and raking one claw down its side. The screech is enough to distract Lydia from the chaos inside. Before she can see him, Stiles is around the other side of the car and behind her. He doesn’t actually want to hurt her, so he yanks her flush to his chest by her hair and covers her nose and mouth with his other hand. She struggles, as he expected. Her aim is well practiced as she digs her heels into him and starts to scratch her nails between his fingers. It would have been more than enough to dislodge him were he human. As it is, she slumps into his chest after a few minutes. Her heartrate slows and Stiles lets her go. He’s setting her back into the car when her phone catches his eye. A quick check reveals it to be recording and he promptly deletes it. 

Peter is strutting out of the store with all the confidence afforded a predator who’s just enjoyed a successful hunt. Stiles doesn’t join him until he’s used Lydia’s jacket to wipe down anywhere he’s touched. 

Peter is covered in blood and can’t seem to stop smiling. Stiles doesn’t hesitate to bare his neck and allow Peter to bite the tendons there. He’s gentle but his teeth are sharp and there is blood cooling on Stiles’ neck when he releases him. Stiles doesn’t wipe it away. 

He laughs, “I take it you had fun?” 

“Hmm. The boy was a surprise.” 

“Did you kill him?” 

“Yes. Is that a problem?” Peter actually sounds like he’d be distressed if Stiles was upset. Stiles thinks it’s precious. 

“Nah. He was an ass anyway. I took care of his girlfriend.” They start walking arm-in-arm to where they’ve parked Peter’s old nurse’s car. Well, Peter’s car. 

“I noticed.” 

They separate after a few minutes when they approach the car. Peter drives and Stiles sends an anonymous tip to the local police department. Peter gives him a look once he hangs up. 

“I’m not just going to leave Lydia alone like that. What if something happens to her?” 

Peter nods in assent and they drive home in comfortable silence.

 

*** 

 

Stiles gets a job the next day. He’s been sending applications since he moved to Beacon Hills and it’s a good thing he finally got a reply because his rent is looming and groceries are eating his savings up. The job is at a coffee shop that’s walking distance from the school. Which is good, because his shift runs halfway into his first period every morning. Also good that he’s graduating after the first semester and has a free period. So long as his shift doesn’t change, it’ll be fine. The pay isn’t too bad. At least, Stiles will be able to support himself so long as he keeps selling essays on the side. 

Stiles really shouldn’t be surprised to see a lot of his classmates, half-awake and on their way to school. His saving grace is that it’s the morning so nobody expects a conversation out of him. 

Peter will be able to contribute once everything is over and he can stop being the most wanted coma patient in Beacon Hills. Stiles looks forward to the day. He reminds himself of it every time another middle-aged “The customer is always right” working mother from hell makes it her mission to keep customer service’s reputation going strong. 

 

*** 

 

Sundays are the best. Stiles gets to sleep in. He gets to wake up to a full meal. He gets to sit down at that meal and eat at his own pace. There is nothing to leave the apartment for. There are no deadlines or customers or classmates. There is only Peter eating beside him and then it is just Peter’s heart beating under his ear. There are claws tracing invisible designs into his shoulder and the low hum of the washing machine playing in the background. 

Stiles lives for this. Laying peacefully together without any responsibility, Peter’s relaxed form dozing under him as he traces the line where scar tissue meets smooth skin. 

It’s a good morning. 

That night is a different kind of fun. One that Stiles is learning to enjoy more and more each time. 

The fools are drunk and in their woods, smashing about like they own the place. It makes Stiles’ hackles rise. A low growl escapes him and Peter meets his eyes from across the clearing. His eyes shine and Stiles can feel his own react. 

The men are scared now. No matter how much bravado they cover it up with, that stench is unmistakable. Stiles grins and dashes to the left. The men jump away from where he’d been standing, ever closer to his alpha. 

Stiles grins and rakes his claws down a tree. The noise turns them towards him and this time they see his eyes when they shine. 

They run. 

It’s exhilarating to chase them. The scent of blood fills the air and spurs Stiles on. His alpha falls into step beside him and lets him take the first swipe at the shorter one’s ankles. He cries out and stumbles. Stiles laughs and falls back, making his way around until he’s able to jump out in front of them. Peter tackles the larger one. The shorter one falls on his back in his haste to get away. 

It is all too easy to pin the man down. He’s begging for his life. 

It’s pathetic. 

Stiles takes his time with the man. It’s all too easy to rake his claws down his shoulder, to rip bits and pieces of him off without hitting anything vital. The man couldn’t move his arms even if he wanted to. Lifting his head only causes him to cry out in pain. Blood is everywhere. It sprays onto his face. It cakes under his claws. It spills onto the ground. 

His alpha is watching him, the other man tossed aside in favor of admiring his work. It isn’t until the man has bled out that Peter rests his clawed but human hand on his shoulder, grounding him, bringing him back down. 

Stiles exhales, looks up to the clear sky, and laughs. There are no birds to hear him, and Peter is a steady presence as Stiles’ laughter turns more hysterical before tampering off into something closer to a whimper. 

He looks down at the mess he’s made. “You’ve turned me into a monster.” 

“You’ve always had the choice. Do you know what you are?” 

Stiles doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t fight when Peter coaxes him into his lap. His legs are curled inwards and sprawl away while his head rests on Peter’s shoulder. Peter moves him so that he’s more securely sat on his thigh as he sits crossed-legged. 

Peter holds him tight, pressing his cheek to his and whispers “Beautiful.” 

The wind blows through the clearing and makes Stiles shiver, his claws detract and he raises his head. Peter’s stubble scrapes against his cheek and there’s a sincerity in his eyes that leaves Stiles breathless. He cups his cheek and, before he can think better of it, brings the man down into a kiss. 

Peter is surprised, that much is clear, but he doesn’t waste any time. His grip tightens from where it had been resting on his hip and Stiles pushes into it. Stiles grips his hair and pulls him into a better angle. Peter opens up and Stiles pushes his tongue into his mouth to explore every inch of him that he can reach. 

Peter leans back as Stiles leans forward, leaving him cradling his face as he straddles his alpha. Peter submits so willingly underneath him, allowing him to move him at his whim, opening up to him and baring his neck when Stiles’ tongue trails down and he bites. Peter wails, claws digging into the soft dirt underneath them, but doesn’t fight. He tilts his neck even further and Stiles wonders if this is what it’s like to be high, to have such a dominant figure helpless and wanting underneath him. 

Peter is laughing, breathless and relaxed. Stiles sits up and the realization of what he’s done hits him. 

Peter is up faster than Stiles can blink. He’s got one arm supporting his back and the other cradling the right side of his neck, the same side he bit. 

His thumb lightly presses down until Stiles is baring his neck. He’s not left in suspense, Peter cups the back of his head and brings him in so that Peter is breathing him in. There’s a peck of a kiss and then he’s being led up to his feet. 

Peter takes his hand in his, meets his eyes, and kisses the back of it. “Beautiful.” 

He shifts back into his wolf form and offers Stiles his back. Stiles mounts him and they go home. 

They don’t have sex that night. They wash the blood off each other and they curl up together in Stiles’ bed. Stiles rests his head on Peter’s chest and traces designs into his scar tissue. Peter rests his hand on Stiles’ hip and presses a kiss onto his forehead before closing his eyes. 

Peter never sleeps on the couch again. 

 

*** 

 

Mondays are the worst. 

They’re tiring. They’re grueling. They’re endless. Everyone is all the grumpier at work. The lessons are all the more boring. And Stiles just wants to go home where Peter is waiting for him. 

The bell jingles and Stiles freezes. 

He knows that scent. He’s memorized that scent for exactly this reason. 

For a moment, Stiles isn’t at work. He’s running. His alpha’s ahead of him. He can smell wolfsbane. Kate is cocking her gun. A shot goes off. It misses but just barely. He can hear his shirt ripping. Peter had been furious. 

“Ahem,” a girl coughs. Stiles unfreezes. It’s the other new kid at school, Allison Argent. She seems embarrassed. The woman behind her is smiling. 

Stiles suddenly feels very much like prey. He doesn’t like it. 

“I’m sorry,” Stiles laughs, “What was your order?” 

Stiles prepares their order on autopilot. Did she recognize him? No. That’s impossible. 

She laughs at something Allison said and Stiles’ eyes flash. Stiles closes his eyes and thanks god his back is to her. He takes a deep breath and faces them. 

Allison and Kate leave without any bloodshed and Stiles breathes easier once they’re out of sight. 

“You okay?” his coworker asks. 

“Yeah. I’m fine, just, reminded of something is all.” 

“Bad memories?” 

“Yeah.” 

 

*** 

 

“I want her dead,” Stiles growls as he slams the door behind him. 

Peter materializes from the kitchen, “Not that I don’t approve, but what’s brought this on?” 

“She was just standing there with her niece. Laughing without a care in the world. Going about her day like she deserves to.” 

Stiles is pacing now, hand running through his hair in frustration, eyes flashing without pattern. Peter comes up behind him and molds himself to his back, one arm around his middle and the other on his shoulder. 

“Did you have anything in mind?” 

“There’s a dance.” 

“Oh?” 

“Her niece, Allison, is my classmate. Doesn’t have a date. She doesn’t have any idea of what her family is.” 

“You’re sure that hasn’t changed? We checked her a while ago.” 

“She’s too good for that to have changed.” 

“Taking her would draw out the entire Argent clan.” 

“Not if we’re careful.” 

“And how will we do that?” 

“We don’t hurt her. We only make Kate think we did. If she wants to keep her crimes secret, she’ll come alone.” 

“Hmmm have I mentioned lately how much I adore you?” 

Stiles grins, “Not since this morning.” 

“How terribly negligent of me.” 

“Are you going to make it up to me?” 

“Don’t I always?” 

 

*** 

 

“You really didn’t have to do this.” 

“Nonsense,” Stiles smiles at Allison from where he’s carrying three different dresses through JCPenny. “I’m the one who asked on such short notice. The least I can do is help find us something to wear.” 

They arrive at the changing room and Stiles is left on his own. He’s already got a suit and he doesn’t really know much about fashion so he waits diligently as Allison changes. She shows him every dress and Stiles compliments each one. It’s nice. Allison is a nice girl and Stiles thinks they might have been friends. 

She picks her dress and he pays because she hadn’t been planning to go and then he drives her home. 

She kisses his cheek and thanks him before heading inside. 

He buys a copy of the same dress the next day. 

 

*** 

 

Allison is beautiful in her dress. She smiles when she sees him. Stiles smiles back. He offers her some flowers. She thanks him and doesn’t notice the drugs until she’s already asleep. 

Stiles doesn’t take them to the dance. He takes them to the Hale house. Peter is waiting for them on the porch with the dress and Stiles carries Allison down to the basement. Peter sets down the blanket he got from the trunk and Stiles sets Allison down as gently as he can. Allison starts to stir so Peter leaves the room. Stiles sits crossed-legged across from her with the dress in his lap. 

They don’t want to scare her but some things are unavoidable. The least they can do is make it as painless as possible. 

Stiles can tell the exact moment she becomes aware of her surroundings only because he can hear her heartbeat. Her breath doesn’t change, nor does she move or make a sound. Stiles waits until she attacks him. He stops her by grabbing her arms from where she’d meant to tackle him and pushing her back onto the blanket. She struggles but he doesn’t budge. After a minute or two she tires herself out and Stiles speaks. 

“Are you done?” 

“Let. Go. Of. Me.” 

“I’m afraid I can’t let you leave yet.” 

“Let go of me you freak!” 

Stiles waits patiently while she tries to buck him off again. It doesn’t take as long as last time for her to fall back in defeat. 

Fighting back tears, she asks, “What did I do to deserve this?” 

“Absolutely nothing.” Peter answers from the doorway. Allison jumps and cranes her neck to see where Peter is. 

“This,” Peter continues, “isn’t about you. It’s about your aunt.” 

“Kate? Wh—“ 

“She’s hurt a lot of people.” Stiles lets her wrists go, backing up enough for her to comfortably sit up, but close enough to pin her down again if she tried to bolt. 

Allison takes the chance to scoot back as far as she can. She manages to put a foot of distance between her and Stiles before her back hits the wall. 

“She cares for you. I cared for my nephew too, before she raped him and used his weakness to burn us all alive.” Peter says. 

Allison’s eyes widen in horror. First at his admission but then for an entirely different reason. Fear floods the room and Stiles glares at Peter. 

“For fuck’s sake, no we are not going to rape you. Peter, remember that thing we said about not scaring her more than we can help? You’ve scared her half to death,” Stiles meets her eyes, picking the dress up from where it had fallen to the ground, “We don’t want to hurt you. We want to hurt Kate. She needs to think it happened. That’s all.” 

“Oh is that all?” Allison is shaking now, her voice rising and falling as her fear is slowly being replaced by anger. 

Actually, Stiles sniffs the air and what he smells is, “Is that blood?” 

Peter is looking speculative, subtly scenting the air as well, before he breaks into a grin, “ Why Allison, do you happen to be on your period?” 

By the look on her face, Stiles is willing to bet that, yes, yes she is and that’s just too perfect. 

“That’s almost too good to be true. Alright, when you’re changing into this,” Stiles sets the dress on the blanket, “if you could just let the blood run down your legs, that would be great. Whether she knows you’re on your period or not, it’ll still make it all the more convincing.” 

Stiles stands up and walks backwards to the door. Peter steps back and closes the door for him. 

“You’ll find it’s a copy of the same dress you’re wearing right now. The only difference is that we’ve tailored it to look, well, worn to say the least. We’ll open the door in five minutes so don’t take too long to change.” 

They wait by the door. Just because they’re offering privacy doesn’t mean they’re stupid. Allison doesn’t move for the first minute and a half but then they hear the tell-tale sound of shuffling cloth and footsteps. By the time they open the door, Allison is standing on the blanket, holding the left half of her dress up where they’ve ripped the strap. There are various other tears in the dress, but not so much to leave her exposed to them. There’s blood running down her thigh. 

Stiles smiles in thanks and slowly walks towards her. When she doesn’t immediately back away, he scoops some ash and dirt into his hand and warns, “I’m going to wipe this on your face. Stay still.” 

She flinches when he touches her cheek but otherwise lets him smear the dirt onto her. 

“Peter, get behind her now.”

Stiles has readied the camera on Allison’s phone by the time Peter’s behind her. 

“Allison, you, yeah no I don’t need to tell you to look scared. Peter, move to the side a little. I want her to see the scars.” 

Peter does as told. The picture is taken, Peter Hale cradling a dirty and broken Allison Argent to his chest by the throat, claws out and grin sharp. Stiles sends it to Kate, tells her to come alone, and then they wait. 

Allison is left alone in the room. Peter waits on the stairs and Stiles stays by Allison’s door. Stiles hears Peter stand up at the same time as he hears Kate’s heartbeat drawing closer. 

Stiles is upstairs with Allison, gagged and bound by the ties of her dress, by the time Kate arrives at the door. 

They stay hidden for now, more for Allison than anything. Peter introduces her, courteous as ever, as if she were a welcome guest. His tone is deceptively light, friendly even, but nobody could mistake the rage in his eyes. The malice in his carefully crafted sentences meant to condemn, to pry out her confession. 

Kate is all too eager to brag, to try and get under his skin, but she’s desperate. Frantically, she searches for her niece. 

“She really does care for you, doesn’t she? It’s a shame it doesn’t make up for what she’s done.” Stiles whispers into Allison’s ear. There are angry tears running down her face. Stiles pities her. 

Stiles doesn’t reveal himself until Kate’s confessed to everything. She cocks her shotgun and freezes as Stiles steps out from the living room. 

Kate points her gun at them and Peter takes the chance to pin her to his chest in much the same way he did Allison. Except, there’s blood beading where he presses his claws into her neck and there is no mistaking his sincerity. 

He means to kill her. 

Blood is pooling underneath Allison. Some of it falls onto Stiles and Kate notices. She snarls. She calls them monsters and beasts and a disease. 

Allison isn’t even fighting Stiles’ hold, as weak as it is. She glares at her aunt and Peter grins at the sight of it. 

“Do you see that Kate?” Peter chuckles, “Do you see the state she’s in and yet all her anger is focused on you. How betrayed she must feel.” 

“Peter,” Stiles interrupts, “The dance will be ending soon.” 

“Yes, I suppose we should wrap this up. But first, Kate, do you know the best part? She won’t even remember our faces. We’re going to take her memories and you’ll be one dragged through the mud. How horrible it must have been to be betrayed by someone she trusted so dearly, to be sold like livestock. How lucky she is that I happened to stumble upon you, confused and lost but awake enough to save the poor girl.” 

Peter rips out her throat. Kate falls to the ground, gasping and twitching, her outrage drowned out by the blood pooling into the floorboards. She jerks one final time before laying still, her eyes open. 

Peter just stands there for a moment, blissful as he soaks in his victory. 

Stiles cuts Allison’s bonds and lets her go. She falls to her knees by her aunt’s side, hands frozen over her. Stiles unties the gag behind her and lets it fall. 

For a long moment, even the preserve is silent. 

“What are you?” 

“Werewolves.” Stiles says before Peter can spout some poetic nonsense. 

He leaves Peter to explain the rest, making his way to the basement where Allison’s dress and blanket remain. Allison is using Peter’s handkerchief to wipe away the dirt and blood when Stiles returns. She takes the dress with a nod. 

They leave her be when she disappears around the corner to change. She’s no longer bleeding down her leg when she returns. Not all of the dirt is off, but nothing a quick shower won’t wash away. 

“Are you really going to do it? Take my memories away?” 

Stiles looks to Peter and Peter chuckles, still high on endorphins, “If you like, but I had planned to send you back home to Chris. He’s the only half-decent hunter I’ve ever met and he’ll help spin the story. He’ll listen to you. As his next matriarch, he has to. Kate confessed. There is nothing your family can use to start a war.” 

“Peter, you’re confusing her.” 

“That is not my problem. She can take her questions to her father.” 

“And when she’s told nothing but bigoted nonsense?” 

“That is a problem for tomorrow.” 

“Where’s my phone?” 

They both turn their attention to her at the interruption. Stiles searches for her phone. Peter shakes his head fondly, reaches into Stiles’ back pocket, and hands it to Allison. 

Allison stares them into stillness as she makes her call. 

Once she hangs up, she says, “If you honestly think I’m letting you drive me anywhere after this then you’re both idiots.” 

Peter snorts. Stiles make a ‘fair’ gesture. They wait for Mr. Argent to arrive. 

When he does arrive, he’s concerned. When he sees Kate, Stiles has to play the recording he made of her confession before he could do anything rash. After the recording ends, Peter makes his claim to compensation. Chris will have no choice but to obey. He’s lucky they demand so little. 

By the end, he’s turned a shade paler and Allison has to coax him into calling the police. Peter changes into a tattered hospital uniform. Stiles sticks around to tell the police how Kate gave him and Allison drugged flowers, how she gloated about what she was going to do to them, and how Peter wandered in and saved them. 

Peter is immediately taken back to the hospital. Stiles listens as Peter asks the paramedics in the ambulance about them repeatedly. Stiles watches him go until the ambulance disappears. 

 

*** 

 

Pinning everything on Kate is pathetically easy. Even when skeptical looks are pointed at her wounds, sympathy is all their story receives. 

 

*** 

 

The Argents move by the end of the semester. Stiles spends most of his time with Peter in the hospital while he plays human. His recovery is going remarkably well, and the entire town is praising his name enough that nobody wants to question it. 

Stiles graduates ahead of his class. Peter finds his accounts have added interest to an already sizable amount of money, not to mention the life insurance, and he moves them to a nicer apartment downtown. To the public, Peter Hale has taken in the boy he saved upon learning of his struggles. It’s all assumption and rumor, but Stiles isn’t about to correct anyone either. Who Stiles kneels to is nobody’s business but his own. 

Peter being rich again is good for more than buying apartments with working AC. Stiles quits his job and focuses on his online classes. He finds he quite enjoys working on his shiny new laptop while resting his cheek on Peter’s knee.

Peter heals his scars gradually. The last of them disappear a year later. 

The new sheriff is elected and Stiles doesn’t leave bed for the entire day. Peter remains a silent presence and it helps. Likewise, Stiles runs with Peter until they fall from exhaustion the on his family’s anniversary. 

When Stiles graduates college, they exchange shiny new bites on each other’s wrists. It’s a scar they’ll both carry with pride long after they leave this world and enter the next.


End file.
